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Surveying there his armed head,
With shame remembers that he fled
The scorned dogs ; resolves to try
The combat next; but if their cry
Invades again his trembling ear,
He straight resumes his wonted care,
Leaves the untasted spring behind,
And, wing'd with fear, outfies the wind.

ON A GIRDLE.

That which her slender waist confin'd
Shall now my joyful temples bind :
No monarch but would give his crown
His arms might do what this has done.

It was my heaven's extremest sphere,
The pale which held that lovely deer.
My joy, my grief, my hope, my love,
Did all within this circle move!

A narrow compass ! and yet there
Dwelt all that's good and all that's fair :
Give me but what this ribbon bound,
Take all the rest the sun goes round.

SONG.
Go, lovely rose !
Tell her that wastes her time and me,

That now she knows,

When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to be.

Tell her that's young,
And shuns to have her graces spied,

That, hadst thou sprung
In deserts, where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died.

Small is the worth
Of beauty from the light retir'd :

Bid her come forth,
Suffer herself to be desir'd,
And not blush so to be admired.

Then die, that she
The common fate of all things rare

May read in thee;
How small a part of time they share,
That are so wondrous sweet and fair !

WILLIAM DAVENANT.

BORN 1605-Died 1668.

There is an absurd tradition, that Sir William Davenant was the son of Shakspeare. He was in reality the son of a vintner of Oxford. Davenant wrote some rather successful plays; and afterwards composed masques for the court. He became manager, or, as it was then called, governor of the Drury-lane company of actors. In the civil wars he behaved with so much spirit and capacity that he was knighted, and employed in several important negotiations for the king's service. When made a prisoner he owed his life to the intercession of Milton, to whom, after the Restoration, he returned a similar service. His principal work, besides his numerous dramas, is Gondibert, which was at least intended for an heroic poem. Davenant died patentee of Duke's theatre,-a grant obtained for loyal services.

ON THE QUEEN VISITING LADY

ANGLESEY.

FAIR as unshaded light, or as the day
In its first birth, when all the year was May ;
Sweet as the altar's smoke, or as the new
Unfolded bud, swell’d by the early dew ;
Smooth as the face of waters first appear'd,
Ere tides began to strive, or winds were heard ;
Kind as the willing saints, and calmer far
Than in their sleeps forgiven hermits are :
You, that are more than our discreter fear
Dares praise, with such full art, what make you

here? Here, where the Summer is so little seen, That leaves (her cheapest wealth) scarce reach at

green, You come, as if the silver planet were Misled a while from her much-injur'd sphere, And t' ease the travails of her beams to-night, In this small lanthorn would contract her light.

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This amiable man and distinguished poet was involved in the troubles of the times of Charles I., and, after the Restoration, lived to experience the ingratitude of princes, and to learn that retirement and leisure are among the best blessings of life. Cowley was a voluminous writer, distinguished for great wit and learning, perverted or misapplied by the false taste of his age. His entire works are now seldom opened save by students of poetry, if there be any such ; but a few of his smaller pieces will ever be admired, and, above them all, The CHRONICLE, a gay and happy trifle, which defies or disarms criticism.

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THE CHRONICLE; A BALLAD.
MARGARITA first possess’d,
If I remember well, my breast,

Margarita, first of all ;
But when a while the wanton maid
With my restless heart had play'd,

Martha took the flying ball.

Martha soon did it resign
To the beauteous Catharine.

Beauteous Catharine gave place
(Though loath and angry she to part
With the possession of my heart)

To Eliza's conquering face,

Eliza till this hour might reign,
Had she not evil counsels ta'en :

Fundamental laws she broke,
And still new favourites she chose,
Till up in arms my passions rose,

And cast away her yoke.

Mary then, and gentle Ann,
Both to reign at once began,

Alternately they sway'd :
And sometimes Mary was the fair,
And sometimes Ann the crown did wear,

And sometimes both I obey'd.

Another Mary then arose,
And did rigorous laws impose ;

A mighty tyrant she !
Long, alas ! should I have been
Under that iron-scepter'd queen,

Had not Rebecca set me free.

When fair Rebecca set me free,
'Twas then a golden time with me ;

But soon those pleasures fled ;
For the gracious princess died
In her youth and beauty's pride,

And Judith reigned in her stead.

One month, three days, and half an hour,
Judith held the sovereign power,

Wondrous beautiful her face ;
But so weak and small her wit,
That she to govern was unfit,
And so Susanna took her place.

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